


Yuletide Joy

by realiteawrites



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink undertones, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant Tommy Shelby, Dubcon if you squint, F/M, Smut, cliches, pure filth, slight name calling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28351374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realiteawrites/pseuds/realiteawrites
Summary: Christmas in the Shelby home was a formal event, but Mr. Shelby finds himself in the most unprofessional position with the housemaid.
Relationships: Arthur Shelby/Linda Shelby, Esme Shelby/John Shelby, Tommy Shelby/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	Yuletide Joy

Christmas at Shelby Manor was a formal affair. For someone who did not grow up with them, Tommy Shelby seemed to pride himself in the tenets of high society and the finer life one may associate with. His family - extended only, of course, Tommy was never interested in marriage - played along with this charade, dressing as Lords and Ladies, Dukes and Duchesses, despite mere years ago residing on one of the most poverty-ridden streets in the midlands. The family would arrive on Christmas Eve evening, to be greeted with the utmost hospitality, and to be shown to their respective rooms; on Christmas morning they would take breakfast in their rooms, to their individual likings, and at midday, the family would take dinner in the extravagant hall. Then the men were to hunt for the afternoon, whilst the ladies took afternoon tea in the parlor. Finally, presents would be exchanged, and evening cocktails would be offered. 

And even though she had the entire schedule memorized, and had since early November, Daisy was still terrified. Frances, the head housemaid, was not a cruel superior at all, though she could be judgemental, she had stressed the importance of each aspect of the next two days going off without a hitch. The worst part, of course, is that she was not going to be there. Her mother had fallen ill and Mr. Shelby had given her leave for the holidays. In fact, Daisy and a few laundry maids were the only ones that were to stay overnight, as the rest of the staff had family in the city to visit, and would be back for Christmas day. Because Daisy was the housemaid, a title she took pride in at her young age, the duty of serving Mr. Shelby fell on her in the absence of Frances. 

Daisy had managed to avoid talking to Mr. Shelby well enough over her year at the house. She had met him once officially when Frances was showing her the grounds. He was a foreboding presence and commanded the attention of anyone surrounding him. And he was beautiful, that could not be denied. Sharp cheekbones and jawline, kissable lips, and those piercing eyes. She would normally consider people who took grand paintings of themselves vain or narcissistic, but he was himself a work of art. Immortalizing him would be a gift to those in the future who never got to see his striking looks in person. 

The rest of the maids, being mostly young women, of course, gossiped. How could this man be unmarried? Some suspected that it was because of his work, some suspected he heartbroken, one girl even suggested that he was a homosexual. This, of course, was met with scoffs and laughter. Whilst he had not taken a wife, Mr Shelby had a taste for ladies of the night. 

Who was Daisy to judge, when she had been lusting after him since she laid eyes on him? Which is what made her so nervous to serve him. She was a more than capable maid, her meticulous and work focused nature is what led to her rising up through the ranks so quickly. But she was still nervous about keeping a level head around Mr Shelby. Something about the way he looked at her. Like he knew something she didn’t. Sometimes, he would walk in on her cleaning, and would watch her. Of course, as soon as she realised, she would apologise and leave, returning to the work later, but as time progressed, she would feel his eyes on her - always from a distance, always far away enough for it to feel safe - but she would feel as they watched her, as if could predict her next move and was just waiting to pounce on her at her most vulnerable moment. 

Frances, in all of her sweetness, just assumed that Daisy’s nerves were in reference to her own capabilities and Mr. Shelby’s violent reputation. On Christmas Eve, mere hours after Frances had left, Daisy found a tin of sherbert lemons and a note from her superior. 

_ You are one of the best maids I have had the pleasure to work with, and if Mr. Shelby even thinks about complaining, I’ll be the one throwing body parts in the Cut.  _

Daisy laughed to herself at Frances’ dramatics, and felt a sense of calm enter her about the next night and day. 

The family arrived late, of course. Arthur and Linda first, Linda quickly retiring to their room whilst Arthur elected to have drinks in Tommy’s office. Then Micheal and Polly, who also elected to stay up for drinks. John and Esme did not even acknowledge the staff past a smile and nod as they headed toward the office (Daisy suspected that they had adjusted the least to higher society). Finn arrived with a bruise on his left cheek but refused to have it looked at and insisted that he stayed with the rest of the family. The children of all the family were sent to bed immediately, and the poor things looked so exhausted that they must have fallen asleep as soon as they hit the pillows. 

As the night dragged on, Arthur left early, presumably to see his wife, and Esme and Polly left shortly after, presumably as the men of the house became more unpleasant to be around. Daisy resided in the scullery, drinking several cups of bitter espresso to keep her awake, and then several cups of hot chocolate to keep her spirits up. It was Christmas Eve, after all.

The bell on the wall signaling the office rang twice, and Daisy arrived promptly, rushing up the kitchen stairs. She knocked on the door once, hearing laughter and loud talking. John swung the door open, looking at her expectantly. “...What?” He asked, staring at her. 

“The bell rang, Sir?” Daisy replied, just as confused. 

“That was me, Frances, come in.” Tommy’s face shifted as Daisy walked in, not expecting the young girl to be there, in his slightly drunken state. 

“You’re not Frances.” 

“No Sir.”

“Where’s Frances?”

“In Lester, Sir.” 

“Lester?”

“Lester, Sir.” 

“Well, why is she in Lester, and not here, answering my bloody bell?” Tommy’s accent was thick and prominent, bolstered by the alcohol in his system. Daisy thought it was rather endearing and truly strange, to have someone so intimidating in such a state. 

“You gave her leave, Sir.”

“Oh.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Right.” Tommy nodded as if he knew all along. “Well, we need another glass. And another bottle of whiskey.” He vaguely gestured to a corner of the room where a glass had been smashed. Was it really a Shelby gathering if at least one argument did not break out? 

“Yes Sir, right away Sir. Would you like me to clean up the glass?” Daisy admitted she was a little worried about leaving four clearly inebriated men with sharp glass in the corner, but Tommy shook his head. 

“No, no get that later.” 

“Yes Sir.”

Though it had taken her less than two minutes to go to the kitchen, place the glass and whiskey on a silver platter, and return to the office, it seemed that more harsh words were exchanged, as the room was now empty, apart from her patron. Tommy himself did not look angry or irritated, but pensive. 

“Come in, Daisy.” The maid entered, and he motioned for her to serve him a drink. Goosebumps covered her skin as he watched her. Calculating and dark, his gaze steadily observed her hands.

“Has everyone else turned in for the night, Sir?” Her voice was tentative, and she did not look up as she spoke. 

“I believe so.” He, however, tried to catch her eye as she brought his drink over. 

“Would you mind then Sir, if I cleaned the glass up now?” Truthfully, it was getting late, and she had a very long day tomorrow. 

“Of course not, do whatever you need to.” She smiled gratefully, and pulled a muslin cloth from one of her pockets, and reached to a small cupboard where the office cleaning supplies were held, and took out a small brush. Tommy watched her, as he lit a cigarette for himself.

“Would you consider me a cruel man?” His face was impossible to read as Daisy looked at him, catching his eyes properly for the first time. She, on the other hand, was easy to read. Eyes like glass marble, filled with confusion and nervousness. She silently shook her head, and Tommy chuckled. “Some of my family would try and convince you I were the devil himself.” 

Daisy quickly looked back down at the mess, kneeling down on the floor and picking up the larger pieces of glass first. “You’ve been a kind and generous employer, Sir. Frances says you’re the best in England.” It was true, they were paid a generous wage, had good living quarters and were often forgiven for mistakes, rather than fired. “And family can be difficult, Sir.” She added, hoping she was not crossing a line. 

“They certainly can be.” Tommy tapped his cigarette, watching the ash fall into the tray. “You’re not going to spend Christmas Eve night with your own?” Eyeing the clock, it was ten-thirty in the evening, certainly too late to leave. 

“The war took my family, Sir.” The pain of the loss had evened out by now, though ever-present. 

“And no husband?” It was an innocent enough question, but it made Daisy blush nonetheless. 

“I am not the marrying sort, Mr. Shelby.” 

“Why, are you a slut?” 

Daisy dropped her cloth out of shock. The glass she was holding slipped and sliced her finger. Pain seared through the digit, and though it was a superficial cut, she knew, blood began to spill steadily down her palm and wrist. Hissing in pain, she stood up quickly. “Sorry Sir, my hand slipped.”

Tommy too was standing, eyes wide with concern. “Let me help.” He said, his voice now soft as he stepped towards her. Daisy shook her head instinctually, holding her hand. “There are bandages in the scullery,” a drop of blood splashed to the floor, “your carpet, Sir, I can’t stain it.” Tommy rolled his eyes, grabbing her by the arm in order to stop her from leaving and get a closer look at her hand. She gasped at their closeness. 

“The carpet is red, silly girl. And Frances is more than used to cleaning up blood at this point.” Daisy could smell him, smoke and whiskey, and expensive cologne. It was dizzying. 

Without a word, she let him guide her to his desk, taking her by the hips and gently placing her onto the wood table. 

“Here, you look like you need this more than me.” He placed the whiskey glass to her lips, tilting it as she drank hesitantly. Though he had given an innocuous reason, Daisy could see the dark look in his eyes as he watched her swallow dutifully. 

“Right,” he said, “don’t look at your hand, it’ll only make you feel sick.” He ordered firmly, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a medical cloth, scissors, a bottle of clear liquid, and gauze. He wiped away most of the blood, and a calm silence settled on the two of them as he took care of her. He then poured the liquid onto a clean part of the cloth, and hesitated before placing it on the cut. Tommy looked up to his maid, who seemed to be staring out of the window behind him, blush still present. Ever so gently, he put his hand underneath her chin and guided it to face her. “Hey, look at me, ok?” His eyes burned with that darkness, but concern laid underneath the surface. 

“This is going to hurt, but it needs to be done.” Daisy just nodded once more as a response, not trusting her mouth to speak. But a sharp hiss exited her mouth when he placed the cloth on her skin. The bottle must have been filled with vodka or another sterilising alcohol because it stung as it came in contact with her skin. She instinctively pulled her hand away, but Tommy held it in place, shushing her gently as he cleaned the cut. Silence, once more, as he cut the gauze and wrapped it around the finger, and then as he poured her another drink. Neither of them said anything as he pushed it to her lips once more, even though she could definitely drink by herself. Instead, Daisy watched him stare at her, her eyes, her hair, and especially her lips. 

It was only after Tommy had put the empty glass down that he asked her, “now, how are you feeling?” Daisy smiled, whiskey fueling her speech and warming her from the inside. 

“In truth, Sir, I feel like a coddled child.” Tommy smiled in return, a rare and stunning sight. 

“Well, it has been awhile since I’ve had the chance to coddle someone, and it seems it’s been just as long since you were coddled, so let's consider this a treat for both of us, eh?” 

She nodded and watched as he lit another cigarette. He offered one to her, their respective social status abandoned. “Oh, I’ve never-” Tommy raised his eyebrows in surprise. “My dad thought they weren’t for women,” Daisy explained, but soon became speechless as Tommy took a drag, then handed his own cigarette to her. She placed it in her mouth tentatively. “Suck, then hold the smoke for a second, then breathe out.” He instructed. But as soon as she inhaled the smoke she began to cough and splutter and Tommy chuckled, taking it back from her. “Oh there is a lot to teach you, isn’t there?” And once again the dark look took over his eyes as if he were dying of thirst and she were the first sight of water. It was true that she had lived a rather sheltered life, she had no mother and was still but a girl when her father and brother passed - only seventeen. A month later she had gone to her first home, working as a scullery maid. That was three years ago now, and Daisy’s life had been her work. 

“There’s a question in your eyes girl, ask it.” He looked at her expectantly, and her eyes could not hold his gaze. He was right, she had been wondering something. Looking at her hands as they fiddled with one of the white strings around her waist she whispered, “do I look like a slut, Sir?” 

Tommy smiled, small and devious, not gentle like before. “You let me watch you clean. You pretend you don’t see me but I know you do. He was close again, hands either side of her legs. “You like the feeling of my eyes on you, but you don’t know why.” He lifted her chin up, harshly this time, his eyes boring holes into hers. “No, I don’t think you are a slut, silly girl, and you don’t look like one. Sluts want to fuck anyone, Daisy. You just want to fuck me.” She gasped at his forwardness but did not deny his accusation. 

“I never meant to be unprofessional, Sir, it’s just-” Tommy shushed her once more, hands reaching up and rubbing her shoulders and arms in a soothing manner. Chucking, he remarked, “I bring you into my office, make you drink whiskey and smoke cigarettes, ask you if you are a slut, and you’re the one worried about being unprofessional? No, silly girl, you’ve always been on your best behaviour.” 

Daisy breathed a sigh of relief, the man’s praise filling her with something intense. “Truthfully, there is just something about you. The way you struggle to meet my eye, it makes when you do look at me all the more sweet.” He leaned in now, and whilst at first, she was glad she no longer had to maintain eye contact with him, but her breath did not even have the chance to even out, as he began to kiss her neck and jaw, his own breath hot on her ear. 

“Your kindness, your obedience. It makes me wonder, think about doing awful, dirty things to you.” She let out a whimper and felt him smile against her neck, like he had won a prize. 

“Now. We are going to go to my room, and we are going to test that obedience of yours, eh?”

“Yes Mr. Shelby.” Tommy pulled away from her neck and smiled.

“Good girl.”

And he kissed her, gentle at first, rewarding her for her words and obedience. But as she reciprocated, mouth opening and hands reaching up behind his neck, eventually to his hair, pulling him in, he couldn’t help but become rough with his actions, kissing her as if she was wasting away, as if she was only temporary. When he pulled away, her lips were red and definitely going to bruise, and he wanted to kiss her all over again. Instead, he grabbed her hand, leading her out of the office then up the stairs, to his room. There was a reason he placed his family in rooms on the opposite wing of the house. Daisy followed him dizzily, partially from the alcohol, partially from the kissing, partially from disbelief that this was happening at all. 

Tommy’s room was grand, a king size bed, a vanity and a table to write letters on, a settee in the corner, all the elements of luxury Daisy was not accustomed to. She stood in the centre, kicking her shoes off, a little awkward as he took his jacket and waistcoat off, whilst she admired the room that she had only ever seen in passing. 

Daisy jumped as he came up behind her, and he chuckled as he kissed her neck once more. He pulled the string of her apron, letting it fall to the floor, then the buttons of her dress, one by one. “You look very pretty in your uniform, my dear, but I have been imagining what's underneath for a year now and I am frankly sick of waiting.” He murmured into her ear. 

The dress fell as the last button was undone, and Daisy stepped out of it dutifully, leaving her in her underwear, a simple white slip, white socks and white garters, and her maids cap, which she took off bashfully. 

“Turn around.” She followed the order, of course, and looked at her feet as she felt his eyes on her. “Daisy, you know what I want you to do.” Her eyes crawled up slowly, meeting him.

“Good girl,” He praised, and it was a wonder that she was still stood up with how weak that made her knees; he stepped closer, now kissing distance once more. “You are a pretty little thing, aren’t you? Tell me, is this the first time a man has looked at you like this?” 

“Yes, Sir.” He smiled, hardly the smile of a man at this point, more the smile of a predator. 

“Then know this. I will be gentle this time, because you deserve that. But I cannot promise that for the times after.” He held her head by her hair, tilting her face up. Her eyes were big and excited, because she was just giddy at the premise of times after this one. 

“I understand, Sir.” He rewarded her once more with a kiss this one all-encompassing. 

They hit the bed as he ravished her mouth, still holding onto her hair, teetering on the edge of pulling, and she had no choice but to sit, and then lie beneath him. He made quick work of his own shirt and trousers, and Daisy admired his chest and stomach, taught with muscles. He kissed down her own chest, mouthing over her breasts, kissing over her stomach till he came to her cunt. Pulling down her underwear, Tommy sighed smugly as it was revealed how wet she was. He kissed her right above her slit and said “now this is going to feel very intense, but you need to try your very best to stay still, yeah? Because if you pull away, I’ll stop.” Daisy could do nothing but nod, her mind too foggy with arousal to think clearly. 

Tommy began slowly, tongue swirling around her clit delicately she moaned loudly, but was clearly making a conscious effort to stay still. So he then began to suck, lightly still and introduced a finger, circling her hole. Her whimpers and moans echoed around the room, and she near shrieked when he pushed a finger inside of her. But her hips only shifted and twitched, never coming close to pulling away, and Tommy honoured her effort by moving his finger, working her tightness away slowly. With his spare hand, he reached under her slip, and began to tease her nipple, whilst sucking harder on her clit, his tongue still running circles around it. Daisy felt like she was going to explode. She felt something strange building, string being pulled taught in her stomach, as if she were climbing something, and with every movement, Tommy made it only became more intense. “I- please, Sir…” She was asking for something, she just didn’t know what it was.

This egged him on further, and he added a second finger, moving them in a beckoning motion, getting faster and faster. She arched her back, the string pulling further and further, climbing higher and higher, not knowing where to look or what to hold or say. 

And Tommy watched her cum, her mouth open, her hair now wild, her hands gripping the sheets. It was one of the most beautiful moments he had ever witnessed, and he couldn’t help but kiss her. 

His lips tasted strange, but she barely noticed it, lost in a post orgasmic daze. 

“Are you ready?” Daisy nodded in response. 

“It’s going to hurt at first, but we’ve just got to wait until you get used to it, ok?” Tommy didn’t wait for a response this time, too desperate to push into her. He was right, it did hurt. She felt as if she was being split open, yet as he stayed, waiting for her to adjust, Daisy felt less split and more just full. He seemed to see this on her face, and began to move slowly. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he whispered, almost to himself, “my tight good girl.” She whimpered as he praised her and he smiled. 

“Is that what you want to be? You want to be my good girl?” He asked.

“Yes, Mr Shelby, Tommy, Sir, please..” She did not know what to call him at this point and frankly she did not care. He sped up, clearly as desperate as she was.

“I want you to look at me when you cum, ok? You fuckin look at me like a good girl when you cum, eh?” Daisy tried to maintain eye contact, as his blue eyes pierced hers. Once of his arms moved from the sheet to the headboard as he went harder, his promise to be gentle abandoned, and honestly she was grateful. He looked up to the wall behind her and Daisy could see the angles of his collarbones, his neck and his jawline, he truly was a work of art. His pace remained steady from then on, and she felt her string become tighter and tighter. 

“Tommy!” She exclaimed and he looked down to face her. It was written on her face, eyes blown with lust, that she was close.

“Are you going to cum for me, my pretty Daisy? Are you going to cum like a good girl?” He reached down and circled her clit, with that she dissolved, maintaining eye contact as dutifully as she could, though her pupils did roll back with pleasure. Tommy repeated countless praises and platitudes, and as he felt her squeeze down on him, his own pleasure built, so pulled out and came on her stomach, moaning and grunting out “good girl” over and over until he was done. 

Daisy was exhausted, and hazy, so she barely noticed as he stepped away and returned with a washcloth, and only slightly acknowledged him wiping her stomach with a hum of contentment. He collapsed beside her, pulling her close, then the blanket over them. The bell chimed midnight, and Daisy, half asleep already, murmured. 

“Merry Christmas Mr Shelby.” 

**Author's Note:**

> That was filth, I know. Please consider checking out my other work, if you enjoyed this! it's called 'of smoke and green fields' and is a longer story with Tommy as a love interest. And of course, leave kudos and comments at your behest! I hope you all had a lovely holiday.


End file.
